


You Have Only to Ask

by uniqueinalltheworld



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Emotional Constipation, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, One Shot, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-23
Updated: 2015-08-23
Packaged: 2018-04-16 21:54:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4641597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uniqueinalltheworld/pseuds/uniqueinalltheworld
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Iron Bull has frequent demands, but he's never before asked.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Have Only to Ask

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a prompt from JustJasper: The curtains are not the last thing Dorian sets on fire by accident.
> 
> Also, side note: I wrote this and got no errors whatsoever when I did spellcheck. Its entirely possible I missed some sort of more complex grammar thing but I am proud of me.

“Stay with me,” Bull gasped, smearing the words into the space between Dorian’s belly and his mouth. “Stay with me this time, when we’re done.”

 

Dorian whimpered, covered in sweat and thoroughly overstimulated, but Bull kept pressing him, his fingers into Dorian’s body, his mouth into Dorian’s skin, his words into Dorian’s brain.  It was horrifying, nerve-wracking in a nearly literal way.

 

Bull had never asked him to stay before. Bull had never asked him anything, truthfully. He came to Bull, encouraged Bull to demand things of him, and then left after they finished.

 

And such demands they were. Bend over. Kneel. Suck me. Lie still. Let me fuck you. Let me have you. Let me touch you. Good boy. No noise, now. Be louder for me, let me hear you. Good boy. Good boy. Good boy.  All wrapped in soft praise and velvet tones and nestled quietly in a promise to only do what felt good for Dorian, what Dorian had to assume felt good to them both. Yes, Bull demanded what Dorian wanted all the time. But he had never before asked.

 

Bull looked up at him now with something like defiance in his gaze, the whole continent trembling between them but never pausing the steady motion of Bull’s hands. He would keep going, then. Fingering Dorian to completion whether or not Dorian answered his request. This was an out, a chance to pretend he hadn’t heard it or simply ignore Bull altogether. At lesser times, when Dorian was not a better man, he would have taken it. He considered taking it now, but Bull kept _looking_ at him.

 

“Please,” was all Bull said for a moment.

 

Dorian threw his hand over his eyes and groaned. Even as a child, he had always been uncomfortable with seeing other people naked.

 

He left after. He always left after. Why? Because—Because he never asked you to stay, Dorian’s brain supplied nastily. Because staying meant giving another person the opportunity to tell him to go.

 

Bull took his arm away, forcing Dorian to look into the other man’s eyes. It was easily the first time in their three month tryst that Dorian felt their safe word start to bubble in his lips.

 

It seemed Bull couldn’t bear it in any longer, and Maker, how could he look at him like that? “Please. I want to hold you.”

 

Dorian felt hot, then cold, then certain he was _crying_. Maker, of all the embarrassing things to happen. Somewhere outside the gravitational sphere of things that mattered, the heap of their discarded clothes caught fire.  Here, in the bed not five feet away, Dorian was sobbing, heedless of the wild magic surrounding them like fireworks.

 

Bull pulled out of him to wrap enormous hands protectively over Dorian’s back. It only made matters worse in the long run. Dorian hated Bull’s hands. He hated their weight, their strength, how oppressively gentle they were. He felt something dark and nasty slide possessively around his chest every time the Iron Bull touched him with them, reverent as though he were sacred, careful as though he were a relic of spun sugar and bootblack.

 

He clung to Bull’s chest, aching for something he couldn’t name and let out shaky gulps of tears.

 

“I’m sorry,” Bull whispered. “Look, Dorian, I didn’t mean it, you don’t have to worry.”

 

“Didn’t you?” Dorian asked with accusing, blood-shot eyes.

 

“Not if it’s gonna fuck you up like this I didn’t”

 

“Shit,” Dorian answered back, looking over Bull’s shoulder.

 

“What’s shit?”

 

“Our clothes are on fire.”

 

“Yeah, I noticed that.”

 

Dorian made a sharp pulsing gesture with his left hand. Now their clothes were a glacier, but it was just as well. Bull wiped away tear tracks with a thumb.

“You noticed and you failed to mention it?”

 

“You were crying,” Bull said simply. “I prioritized.”

 

“You could have allowed me to burn down half the Inquisition and my _feelings_ were your priority?”

 

Well, yeah, Bull’s look at him may as well have said.

 

“Oh,” was all Dorian managed. “Oh,” he said again. And after a while, “I see.”

 

“Do you?”

 

“I could. If you demonstrated.”

 

“You got the time?” Bull asked.

 

“It seems I must rely on you to fetch me new clothes,” Dorian answered. “I suppose I am stuck here for as long as you want.”

**Author's Note:**

> Say hi at [Eugenideswalksintoabar](http://eugenideswalksintoabar.tumblr.com)


End file.
